


Inquisitor Drabbles

by Fauxginger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Little Bit of Everything, M/M, Smut, Spoilers, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fauxginger/pseuds/Fauxginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My mind pretty much bursts with headcanons about my Inquisitors and sometimes I write them down.</p><p>Chapters:<br/>Bull/Adaar: 3, 8 (MCD), 12<br/>Dorian/Lavellan: 1, 6, 10(MCD), 11<br/>Solas/Lavellan: 2, 5 (Smut), 7 (MCD),<br/>Blackwall/Cadash: 4, 9 (MCD)</p><p>Always willing to accept prompts and suggestions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ma'Vhenan

**Author's Note:**

> Kicking it off with some Dorian/Lavellan angst (with some fluff at the end because I cannot hurt Dorian)
> 
> Garel Lavellan has nightmares about his clan.

The dream starts the same way it always does. Garel wakes up, kisses the mage beside him awake and they get dressed as they discuss their plans for the day. Dorian reminds him that his clan is visiting, and Garel remains silent.

It jumps ahead, and he is walking down he steps towards the gates of Skyhold, towards the group of elves waiting. Two women, one young and one old, step forward. He recognises them as his Keeper and his oldest friend, Seva. Garel takes a step back, registering it is _that_ dream, but the women are too close already.

“Garel, it is time.” The older woman says, gesturing to the younger. “You will, with Seva. It is your duty.”

Garel feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns to see Dorian. He looks confused.

“Garel?” He asks. Garel simply stares back at him.

“I am sorry Dorian. It is my duty.”

Inside his head, Garel is screaming as he moves away from Dorian, the mages hand falling off his shoulder. He continues to scream as he approaches Seva and takes her in a loving embrace, kissing her, before leading her past his former lover and towards his quarters. Dorian is on his knees and Garel is screaming for forgiveness, for death, but nothing he does changes what his body is doing. He is forced to watch from the inside as he undresses Seva, making comments he once would have made but are now not his. He has to watch the familiar way she bites her lip, and it isn't until his dream-self comes that he awakens in his real bed, screaming.

“NO!!” He screams as he shoots up. He is covered in sweat and quickly checks to see if there is any evidence of arousal or ejaculation. Unlike some nights, there is not. He relaxes for a moment. He hated that dream. His greatest fear is that his clan had some kind of hold on him, some way to make him, and others, perform their duty. To keep their clan alive. After all, he has never met an elf who only preferred the same sex. There are plenty, himself included, who enjoy the company of two or even many genders. Sometimes he wishes his clan had perished, that was this near-constant knot in his stomach would go away and maybe he wouldn’t be plagued with these dreams. A hand places itself on his thigh and Garel flinches.

“Are you okay?” Garel turns his head. Thankfully Dorian was not blessed with the same night vision elves were, or he would see the tears on his lover’s face. Garel however, can see the concern clearly on his face.

“I'm okay.” He goes to wipe at his face, but Dorians hand is there. He feels the tears and Garel sees his face age with worry.

“Tell me.”

“It's nothing,” Garel attempts a laugh, “Just imagined...”

“Garel.” Dorian cuts off his lie before it even forms. He is sat up now, both hands holding Garel's tightly. “Tell me. Please.” There is a long pause before he speaks.

“Creating children is very important to the Dalish. To keep our people alive.” Garel began slowly, but quickly his fear seizes him again and he begins to panic “It is often seen as a duty to have them. I sometimes worry…I am afraid my clan has ways of making me...fulfil my duty. Ways of making me leave you, leave the inquisition. I have nightmares, horrible nightmares where I'm stuck inside my head screaming for you. I see you cry for me and I cannot respond and I end up fucking Seva on our bed and…”

Dorian cuts him off with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Garel stares at him for a moment before he pulls him closer and kisses him fiercely. He needs him. He needs to know that he is real. He needs to get the feeling of Seva off his skin and out of his mind. He breaks their kiss for a moment. “Fuck me.” He hisses, his hand pressing over Dorians crotch.

“No.” Dorian looks horrified and moves further away. “You’re hurt Garel, you’re not thinking straight.”

“Please. I need you Dorian.” Garel begs, grabbing Dorian’s thigh. “I need us. I need to know they can't make me leave you, Ma’vhenan.”

“You've never told me what that means.” Dorian looks away from Garel, out one of the windows.

“You know what it means, I heard you asking Solas.” Garel sighs. This was not the first time Dorian had asked him about that word.

“I want to hear you say it. Not for me. For you” Dorian gets up off the bed and walks out onto the balcony. The distance allows Garel’s head to clear slightly, and after a moment he follows him. He stands next to him, elbows resting on the cold stone. The air helps.

They are silent for a long time. Garel is digging his fingers into his palm as he tries to make the words come out. Using elven made it seem less…big. Less real. He's not afraid of commitment, not afraid to commit himself to Dorian, but he often doubts why someone would commit to him. He had been a very angry child, and had decidedly overcompensated as he aged by turning everything into a joke. His people's gods, his responsibilities to his clan and now the inquisition, all things to be laughed at. Why anyone would want to be with someone who would mock the entire relationship he did not know.

The sun starts to rise when he finally speaks.

“You are my heart, Dorian. I don't want to leave you.”

“You won't.” Dorian says like it’s the truest fact in the world, rubbing Garel’s back. And it works. Those two words reassure Garel that no matter what duty his clan may have for him, whatever tricks they may use or words they may spin, he will not, can not, leave his heart. Garel kisses Dorian again, gently and on the cheek this time, and finds himself pulled into a loving embrace. He smiles.

“I won't.”


	2. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas/Lavellan
> 
> Solas forgets one of the marks side effects.
> 
> (Lavellan name left unsaid)

Lavellan was used to Solas walking close to her. It had started the moment they met, his concern over the mark meant he stayed nearby in case the worst occurred, but after their kiss in the fade she knew his presence was no longer out of concern. They were walking in the Hinterlands, looking for more of the suspicious shards that unlocked the temple, when she heard Cassandra chuckle. She ignored her, focusing on looking for the shards. She glanced at Solas, who looked irritated.

“Solas, is something wrong?”

“Nothing, Inquisitor.” He replied a little too quickly, smiling at her.

By the time the shards in the area had been found it was time to camp. Lavellan retired to her tent first. A few moments passed before Solas joined her in the tent, the irritated face from earlier returned.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, which caught her off guard.

“No, why would I be?”

“Earlier…I attempted to hold your hand but you didn’t…” he trailed off, probably realising how silly it sounded now. That’s why Cassandra had laughed.

“Was it my left hand?” she asked, laughing slightly, making Solas more irritated.

“Yes. I was on your left was I not?” She laughed slightly louder. He was scowling now.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” She took a step towards him and held her marked hand in front of him. “The mark, I can’t feel anything in this hand. You were the one who told me.” Solas turned slightly red. She smiled wider, taking his hand with her right and squeezing it.

“I…I am a fool.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short, just inspired from other people's ideas of what effect the mark has on the hand around it.  
> Also I really, really like the idea of Solas making an ass of himself.


	3. Little Horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull/F!Adaar
> 
> Orket Adaar and Iron Bull discuss children.
> 
> As expected with Bull, it gets a little hot and heavy near the end, though I do skip the main event because this was supposed to be fluff.

It was early morning, the sun just starting to drift through the windows of Inquisitor Orket Adaar’s bedroom. She rolled onto her front, burying her face in her pillow and groaning. The large body beside her stirred, and a large hand rested on her back.

“Morning.” She muttered into the pillow.

“Morning.” Bull replied. “How are you?” His hand moved gently up and down her back.

“Hungover. I can't believe you talked me into drinking that shit again.” Bull laughed, and Orket rolled onto her side as best she could with her horns, cuddling into his side.

“You said some interesting stuff last night Kadan.” He whispered as she was closer. She frowned. What had she said? She couldn't remember. “You told me you wanted to ‘do this proper’.” She cringed. Ah. She’d never brought up where she hoped their relationship was going, though she figured Bull had guessed. The perks of dating a spy.

“Crap.” She sat up, finally looking at him. His eyepatch was on the bedside table and the sight of his eye made her smile. The story behind it, his protection of Krem even though they didn't know each other, it made her fall in love with him every time she saw the scar.

“Relax Kadan. I just want to know what you meant by it. ‘Proper’ can mean a lot of things.”

“I meant…” She hesitated, taking a deep breath before saying it. “Marriage. Children, one of those things.”

Bull was silent for a long time, gently stroking the hair he could reach between her horns. Just as she wished she hadn't said it, he spoke.

“Gotcha.” He said quietly, before rising from the bed.

 

They didn't talk about it for a few days. I fact, they didn't speak a lot at all. Normally this was fine, both of them preferring to be less vocal and more physical anyway, but considering their conversation it bothered Orket a lot. She returned to their room late from a war meeting one night to see him stood at the doors to the balcony. She didn't say a word, instead coming up behind him and doing her best to wrap her arms around him. He flinched slightly, not hearing or seeing her coming, before relaxing. A few moments passed before he pushed something into her hand. It was a simple golden ring. She sighed, slipping the ring onto the correct finger. She felt him puff up with pride before pulling another ring from his pocket and putting it on his finger.

“You know there's a big ceremony that's supposed to…”

“Shhhh, Kadan. Don't ruin the moment.” He turned and kissed her, his hands pulling her closer. He pulled back after a moment, Orket stumbling into his chest. “The necklaces were all I needed.” Of course. She really should have known that the dragons tooth was so important. But she'd grown up seeing her parents wear rings like these. She needed the rings.

“Are you sure it won't slip off?” She teased, lightly touching the half-finger he'd put his ring on.

“Certain.” He kissed her again. There was a time where their kisses were all passion, a side effect of sex. Their first kiss, or what she called their first kiss, was just outside her room. They'd had a few drinks in the tavern and when she went to retire to her quarters he insisted on walking her, obviously hoping for a night in bed. He looked surprised when she didn't invite him up, but he'd leant in to kiss her all the same. This was before she'd even asked about the necklace. It was such a gentle kiss she'd done the same thing she did just now, falling into him when he pulled away. He'd wished her goodnight, said Boss the same way he now said Kadan, and left. She'd stood there for a moment, hand over her mouth, trying to process what had happened.

“Bull.” She interrupted. “You're not just doing this because you know I want it, are you?”

“Still doubting me Kadan?”

“Not me. My mother. Or a voice that sounds suspiciously like her.” She tapped the side of her head and he laughed. He swept her up into his arms and took her over to the bed where he threw her down before climbing atop her.

“Kadan.” He whispered, carefully kissing her neck like he knew she liked. “Children, with you, would be a dream.” He returned to her mouth, a hand on her hip as the other held him up.

“They'd have your horns.” She muttered, touching them, and he smiled.

“Your magic.” He replied, his hand moving up to her chest.

“Your height.” She kissed him more forcefully, her arms wrapping around him.

“Your eyes.”

They continued like this for a while, naming things their children would inherit while exchanging kisses and touches. Their clothing was soon lost, and Bull sat back to look at her.

“Your heart.” He said fondly, a hand stroking her calf.

“Our heart.” She replied, sitting up to look at him. They both stroked the base of each other's horns, smiling. He kissed her.

 

* * *

 

He fell to the side, careful not to strike her with his horns, immediately snaking his arm under her and pulling her close to him. She ran her hand over his chest.

“You know,” she said, circling her hand. “You need to have a lot of sex to make a baby, improves your chances and all.” He laughed, kissing the top of her horns.

“Looking forward to it, Boss.”


	4. Perfect Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall/F!Cadash
> 
> Blackwall's judgement from the perspective of the Inquisitor Zegna Cadash.
> 
> (Basically: guess what part of my blackwall play I just did)

He looked pathetic.

She wanted to cry, to run to him and bring him as close as she could, to release his shackles so that he could hold her like he did before. But she had to remain strong.

"For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainer, formerly known to us a Warden Blackwall. His crimes...well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours."

Zegna was thankful Josephine and the guards had left, leaving her and Blackwall, no... _Thom,_ in private. Or as private as they were going to get.

"I didn't think this would be easy, but it's harder than i thought." she frowned, trying to stay somewhat controlled over herself, her grip hardening on her knee.

"Another thing to regret. Using your ties to the underworld to free me, you're a criminal same as me." She kept her gaze on him, this had been her intent. To make him realise that she had a past the same as his, and what hurt her wasn't his past, it was that he hid it. He continued. "The world will learn how you have used your influence. They'll know the inquisition is corrupt."

"I wish there'd been another way, but my options were limited." she couldn't look at him for a moment, casting her gaze to the side and trying so desperately not to forgive him all at once. She looked back at him.

"You could have left me there!" he barked "I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?" She paused, focusing on her breathing. He would never forgive her if she just let him walk free. And yet...

"You have your freedom."

"It cannot be as simple as that."

"It isn't. You're free to atone as the man you are." she said calmly. "Not the traitor you thought you were, or the warden you pretended to be."

"It will take time. You'd accept that? And what I used to be." he took a step towards her, the shackles clinking. "I lied about who I was. But I never lied about what I felt." he was closer, her hand had moved to the arms of the chair where the knuckles turned white. He could probably see them by now, see her restraint. Or would he read it as anger? He looked down. "No matter what I was or what becomes of me, right now, I am just a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands."

She struggled to keep her expression neutral. This man, this stupid man, who had seen her actions as Inquisitor and heard her history with the carta, did he honestly think she would not forgive him?

"I don't know where we'll end up, but I'm willing to give you a chance." she said after a too long pause. He deserved a little punishment from her; the barn was a cold place to wake in.

"I don't know how to be with you as Thom Rainier." She stood and walked towards him, allowing the faintest of smiles to creep onto her face.

"We'll figure it out."

"Together."

He strode towards her again, the smile becoming more obvious on her face as he leant in and kissed her. She reached for his hands, only to draw back when they hit the metal of his shackles. He backed away, and left quickly.

* * *

Zegna pursued him as soon as Josephine was done with her, discussions about managing her decision, how it would be described to nobles. She knew he would be in the barn and yet was still surprised to see him there, staring at the fire like he had before. He was also surprised when she reached for his hand, holding it despite the awkwardness from their difference in height.

"I lied to Josephine. About what I did with the Carta. I've been strictly smuggling for the past 10 years but, well, we're all different when we're young" she said quietly. He looked at her. "I wanted people to think better of me. To be the Herald they wanted." she looked up at him, smiling softly, gripping his hand tighter.

"I guess that makes us perfect for each other then." he replied, and they both laughed reservedly. He bent down and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She released his hand and leant into his side, letting her head resting against him, his arm moved to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes closed, she whispered.

"Perfect."


	5. The Winter Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas/F!Lavellan
> 
> The millionth interpretation of their first night together, so, smut.
> 
> (Featuring Brianna Lavellan from my fic 'Coming Home')

"Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me."

"I'd love to"

Brianna couldn't care less about the eyes of the imperial court as Solas led her to the dance floor; she was completely focused on him. Once on the floor he took her in his arms, only for her to reach up, remove the ridiculous hat from his head, and throw it across the floor. This caused a few of the nobles to gasp, not that either of them cared. Solas gently swayed to the music, guiding Brianna. One hand held hers while the other rested on her waist. Her spare hand rested on his shoulder. After a minute or so of the swaying, Brianna shifted closer and moved her hand around his waist. She rested her head against his chest, enjoying his warmth.

 

When the music eventually finished, the two took a step back and smiled at each other.

"Goodnight, inquisitor." Solas bent his head before starting to leave. Brianna took his hand.

"Come with me."

 

 

* * *

The guest room she had been placed in was extraordinary. Everything had layers upon layers of extravagant fabrics, the sofa in the corner, the bed, the tables. Brianna was slightly concerned that the privy would have a lace edge to it. She heard Solas lock the door behind her, and she immediately turned to kiss him. He had been thinking the same, and the two met; equally desperate for the others touch. When they broke apart, Brianna walked slowly backwards to the bed, Solas following. As she reached the foot of the bed she sat, and kept Solas away by planting her foot over his crotch. He stopped and she lowered her foot.

"Strip for me." She smiled. Solas bowed his head and did as she commanded. She moved further back and watched him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, studying his body as if he were a prisoner awaiting her judgement. He stopped before he removed his briefs.

"Perhaps I should not be the only one undressed?" He asked. Brianna smiled, took off the sash, and began to undo her shirt. Solas took a step forward and she stopped.

"Wait." She said, and when he stepped back she continued. When she was also down to her underwear she gestured for him to come. He knelt in front of her and she moved to kneel as well. “I have been waiting for this.” She whispered, tracing one hand delicately across his chest.

“As have I.” He replied, going to grab her waist. She grabbed his hands.

“No.” She commended. He dropped his arms. “I want control.” Solas could not have felt more attracted to her. She began to run her hands over him before suddenly grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. He wanted to touch her, but every time his hands moved she quickly smacked them back down. Her hands strayed from his face, pulling down his briefs before she suddenly moved away. She lay back on the extravagant pillows at the head of the bed.

“Brianna…” He sighed, slipping his briefs completely off.

“Have there been others?” She asked, removing her breast band slowly and deliberately. His cock twitched as her breasts fell free.

“O-others?”

“Other women, Solas. Or men?” she laughed.

“A few.” He replied, almost gasping as she began to slip her underwear off. “None as incredible as you.” She smiled, noting he did not specify genders, and stared at him as her hand slipped between her thighs.

“Hmmmm.”

“What about you, Vhenan. Have you had other lovers?” He had to admit this was a difficult conversation to hold while erect, and while watching her pleasure herself to his body.

“None I have gone this far with.” She replied. She brought her hand up and beckoned him closer. He crawled towards her, eventually meeting her lips. They kissed again for a while, Brianna's hand straying down his body and gently stroking him. The same hand she had stroked herself with. “I have only wanted you.” She whispered in his ear when their kiss broke.

“Brianna…I…” He wanted to, needed to, tell her. If she was willing to give herself, her first time, to him he should tell her. Tell her everything.

“Are you uncertain?” She asked, "Is it because I haven't?"

“Yes, I mean No. I mean…I want you, Brianna.”

“Then take me.”

He could do nothing but comply. He kissed her fiercely, one of her hands clawed the back of his neck while the other began to guide him into her. She was slow, deliberate, stroking him slightly as she allowed him to edge closer. He thrust in her hand, wanting to show her how eager he was. She smiled against his lips before allowing him to enter her. They were no longer kissing, their lips only just touching and she moaned as he moved further into her. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling before he began to move slowly. She was quiet, eyes closed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the back of his neck. One of his hands moved down her body to where they met. As his fingertips reached her folds he paused.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly. Her eyes opened. She looked...drunk. He knew she couldn't be; she'd had one sip of his wine, made a face, and handed the glass back to him.

"Yes." she whispered, and he was surprised. He'd expected her to be all screams and moans, somehow her silence was all the more arousing. He began to move his fingers, stroking her clit while still thrusting. Her eyes closed again as her mouth opened a fraction. His name slipped out and he almost missed it, mistaking it for a breath.

"Brianna." he whispered back, and her hands stopped their tracing and gripped tight. Her eyes closed tighter and at the same time he felt her tighten around him. She was quick. He sped up the pace in both his hips and hand. Brianna pulled him closer, crashing their lips together. She whispered his name against them, biting his lip as she rolled her hips. He gasped as he spilled inside her; he was not aware he was so close. Almost immediately his arm gave way and he fell on to one side of her before quickly rolling off.

"Was...was that supposed to be longer?" she asked after a moments silence, and he laughed as he took her hand.

"It was amazing, Vhenan." he kissed her hand. She took it back from him, only to turn on her side and wrap her arm around his middle, her head nestling against his chest. He looked down at her, her dark hair clinging to her face, eyes closed and breathing deeply. "You should clean yourself" She groaned and rolled away from him, walking to the washroom. He stared at the ceiling above him, contemplating how to tell her the truth he was going to before she distracted him. He opened his mouth to do so as she climbed back into the bed, only for her to kiss him and return to her earlier position. He smiled as she looked up at him, though her eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Something wrong?" He shook his head and he ran his hand down her back.

"Nothing, I was...distracted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this was the first proper smut i've ever written and I've been working on it for over a month now. Please let me know what you think and anything I can do and please please be nice.
> 
> (And sorry i really couldn't help myself with that last line)


	6. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian/M!Lavellan
> 
> Dorian's thoughts and actions during the Inquisitor's assumed death (not death, possible death) after the assault on Haven, Heavy on the Angst
> 
> (Big thanks to my friend Caitlin who gave me this prompt, and then I made her write it too for her Inquisitor and Cullen)

He was gone. Washed under snow or killed by that...thing before the avalanche reached them.

Dorian cursed, kicking at the snow. He didn't know why he was this upset. Garel had talked to him, but surely he hadn't been flirting? How could he even know? Maybe he didn't, and that was just what he was like. But if it wasn't... could he be? There were distant sounds of arguing that tore Dorian from his thoughts, it appeared this inquisition may fall apart as soon as it began. Where would that leave him? To head home, to try and sort out the mess that was Tevinter? Maybe he'd keep travelling, he hadn't seen the entire monstrosity that was Ferelden yet.  Regardless of these new thoughts, he kept glancing back the way they had came. If he still lived, he would benefit most from fire spells. His scrawny frame didn't fare well in the snow; he'd seen him look at Solas like the other elf was insane for not wearing shoes. It was interesting how... Un-Dalish he was. He recalled him saying he wasn't bothered about returning to his clan, and how he'd never give a clear answer when someone asked him about religion. He did however, _relish_ in making those who asked as uncomfortable as possible.

 _"Do you believe in the maker, Herald?"_ someone had asked while they were in the tavern. Dorian saw Varric smirk, as if he already knew the response.

_"Oh, does he need reassuring? I didn't think a god would have self-esteem issues."_

Back in the snow Dorian hid his smile, not wanting to seem like the evil magister they assumed him to be, taking pleasure in the death of their precious Herald.

_No, not death. Possible death. He might be okay. He **would** be okay._

Dorian grabbed his staff from where it leant lazily against one of the tents. If no one else would, he would lead the search party. Though it appeared this surge of heroism came too late. Shouting at the edge of their camp caused him to break into a run. A group was approaching, Cassandra amongst them and holding a limp body in her arms.

Time could have stopped.

His short red hair was covered in snow, pale skin even paler and, oh god were his lips blue? His ears, those stupid ears that twitched when he smiled and laughed, were as lifeless as the rest of him. Dorian was closer now, he could see his breath against Cassandra's breastplate and it took most of his will not to sob. He was okay.

They laid him down on a bed in a tent closest to one of their fires, and covered him in several blankets. Dorian stood at the entrance for a while, unsure if to enter.  Cullen eventually left the tent, and after enduring a strange look Dorian decided he should.

Cassandra stood watching him, only taking her eyes off him when Dorian entered. She raised an eyebrow before returning her gaze.

"Miraculous, isn't it." She said as Dorian took a step closer to the cot. "How he returned to us, from death."

"You doubted the Herald of Andraste?" Dorian laughed, trying not to pay too much attention to Garel's uneven breathing. Cassandra made the noise she typically reserved for Varric.

"I...must go. Please, watch him." she said the last part quietly, almost like a prayer. Dorian nodded as she left, and the instant the flap closed behind her he found himself kneeling at the side of the bed. He reached out to touch Garel's cheek, maker he was cold. Too cold. Blankets alone were not going to help. Taking a deep breath, Dorian began to warm his hands with magic, hoping it would be enough. He kept one hand on Garel's cheek, the other on his chest over the blankets. He bowed his head, eyes forced shut.

_Please let this be enough_

_Please don't let me lose him before I've even had the chance_

_Please, if this is right, if he is for me and I for him_

_Please jus-_

"Dorian?" a quiet voice said, and he looked up to see Garel had woken, and turned to look at him. He smiled weakly, his ears moving so slightly Dorian almost missed it. "Your hands are warm."

"Warm hands, cold heart, isn't that what they say?" Dorian laughed softly, trying not to let any tears slip out. Garel hummed in response, turning his head back and closing his eyes. After another minute or so, sure he was safe and sleeping, Dorian removed his hands. With a quick glance to the tent flap to make sure no one would enter, he leaned forward and kissed the elf on his now much warmer forehead. He stood to leave, to fetch Mother Giselle.

As the tent flap closed, Garel smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Garel flirted with Cassandra a few too many times and he had to break it off with her. Completely by accident, but I figured that would make for some interesting dynamics early on)


	7. Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas/Lavellan (ish)
> 
> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S)

_I wish I could hate you_

Words screamed into overly-ornate pillows wet with tears, whispered in the rotunda as eyes stare at an incomplete fresco, slurred over the last drink of the night. Said, slightly altered, to a kind ear beneath a hat and blonde hair. Eventually the words stopped.

Power was the goal now, control, dominance. Influence spread so wide and far it just began to touch Nevarra. Herald taking Andraste's place in prayers. So many friends and alliances, and yet the bed remained empty. No time for distractions. Something began to stir in the wilds, whispers passing from lips to pointed ears. Silenced efficiently, as all whispers were.

It was cold, and she was uncomfortable. She opened her eyes to find herself tied to her throne by the wrists and ankles, an extra strap around her head to keep it from dropping. How had this happened? How had someone got in, how had they got past the guards? She winced as the torches in the room suddenly lit.

So much red.

Bodies of servants, soldiers and scouts littered the hall, their clothes torn and soaked with blood. What killed them? A slight movement at her feet drew her eye. It was the Commander, still breathing. His eyes were filled with panic as they met hers.

"Inquisitor, He-" Cullen coughed, blood splattering across his face. He was still, his eyes still open and on her. She began to quickly search the rest of the room, who else was here, who else was gone? Each familiar body she saw drew a sob from her. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine were grouped together, she imagined the first two defending the latter, or perhaps just one defending both. Sera's body was only slightly farther away from her than Cullen, her own bow speared into her. Bull's body was hard to miss, one horn missing, brutally torn off along with part of his face. She found it in Dorian. Varric was slumped where he usually sat, a bolt that could have only been from Bianca between his eyes. The sight of Blackwall almost made her vomit; he'd been sliced in half. Part of her was relieved she could not see Cole anywhere, though this raised suspicion. Cullen had said 'He'. Eventually, she looked to the far end of the hall to see someone was standing in the doorway with something in their hand. They began to walk towards her, and before she could see their face they threw what was in their hand at her feet.

Viviennes head.

This was apparently the final straw and she screamed, her eyes shut and pulling madly at the straps that bound her. She screamed for help, kicking madly, her restraints apparently allowing enough movement for her to kick the head. This only caused her to scream more in order to drown out the sounds it made as it rolled. A hand clamped over her mouth, she tried to bite at it but failed. A familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"This is why you don't get in my way."

Her eyes snapped open, though instantly she wished she hadn't. Directly in from of her, face speckled with blood and eyes almost shining, was Solas. He was grinning madly, one hand still pressed over her mouth as the other reached for something at his side. It shined, a knife, but all fight was drained from her. The mark was dull and useless, she suspected this was his doing. His head tiled to the side. He hovered the tip over where her heart lay; an instant death.

_"Do you hate me now?"_


	8. Saying Goodbye Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull / Inquisitor

It was an incredible fight, at least a dozen venatori **and** a pet giant. Everyone was still a little high on adrenaline when it finished and Bull could do nothing but laugh. After a minute or so he realised the Inquisitor was not near them. He looked around for a bit, wondering where the fight may have taken her.

He found her slumped against a rock, one arm wrapped around her middle like she'd just stopped for a rest. He heard someone run away, yelling. Probably Cassandra. She smiled when she saw him. It reminded him of the smile she gave him just before they went to sleep, when he'd been keeping her up a little later than she would have liked.

A tired smile.

"Kadan?" he asked, kneeling at her side. He could see now that there was blood covering her hand and soaking through her shirt.

"He snuck up on me." she whispered, and he leant in closer to save her straining. "Tevinter bastard."

She kept smiling. Why did she keep smiling.

"It'll be okay, someone's gone for help, you'll be fine." he said, one of his large hands now gripping the arm that fell limply at her side. "You'll be fine."

"Bull..."

"You'll be fine."

He kept repeating those words to her even as the healers began to move her. He kept saying them right up until the moment her smile finally wavered, and her hand dropped from his. He said it one last time as he kissed her forehead, some part of him hoping that it would be the thing to save her.

That night at the Tavern, a small hand rested on his shoulder, and a gentle voice whispered in his ear.

"She's fine. Now you be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the first in a series of drabbles in which the Love Interest reacts to the Inquisitors premature death (sorry, no passing in their sleep in these). All of them will be very brief, just focusing on immediate reaction.
> 
> I'm only planning 4 of these (Bull, Blackwall, Dorian, Cullen), but then I'm going to write 4 break up drabbles (Same characters) so  
> basically prepare for the next 8 chapters to be very sad.
> 
> Again, if anyone has any prompts or ideas, send them my way and I'll probably write them!
> 
> (Also hope it was relatively clear that is was Cole at the end there)


	9. Saying Goodbye Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall/Cadash
> 
> Alternative Title: Not Fast Enough

He wasn't fast enough.

She threw down her axe, he never understood how such a tiny thing could carry a weapon twice her height, but he'd be damned if it wasn't attractive.

They were setting up camp. He wasn't fast enough.

A hand rested on her hip as she laughed at Dorian's attempt to assemble a tent, not even tempted to offer him help. Sera laughed along with her, sat on a nearby rock. He watched from a slight distance, attempting to light a fire. Dorian pointed out maybe the _fire mage_ should be lighting the fire and the 'burly man-bear' be assembling the tent. She continued laughing at him. He looked down at the fire for a second.

The laughter stopped.

He looked up just in time to see her hit the floor. He ran to her, Dorian and Sera running away, towards where the arrow had come from.

"Inquisitor? My Lady? Zegna, please." He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up. One eye was pierced by the arrow, the other open and unresponsive. "No, no this can't...come back. Come back to me."

Dorian was the first to return. He stood at the edge of their campsite, stopping Sera when she almost barrelled past him. They stood there and watched him, unsure if they should interrupt or not. He was hunched over, her limp body pulled tight to him. Even from this distance they could hear his quiet sobs, his whispers, begging her to come back. The three of them stayed, frozen, until a scout turned up with a message for her from Leliana: a warning about assassins in the area.

No one was fast enough.


	10. Saying Goodbye Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian/M!Lavellan

He was exhausted. Like in the chantry at redcliffe he had been reduced to just smacking the enemy with his staff, hoping to at the very least daze them long enough for someone else to finish them off. Empty bottles that used to contain Lyrium plotted his path around the battle, though not quite as obvious as those the Inquisitor left behind. Bull practically roared with delight as the last enemy fell, almost causing poor Blackwall to fall over. Dorian smiled at the two of them before frowning.

"Where's Garel?" he asked them, looking about for the elf.

"Height advantage." Bull explained as he pointed to a rock formation. Dorian rolled his eyes, he always seemed to find the most ridiculous places to climb up. He headed after him.

"Why, why do you insist on climbing these ridiculous structures, amatus? Do you enjoy making us struggle after you?" he joked as he finally clambered to the vaguely flat top. Garel was led down, one arm resting lazily over his stomach while the other held his head.

"Well, I do enjoy getting you hot and sweaty." Dorian laughed at his lover's wit.

"Enjoying the rare Ferelden sun, are we?"

 "Care to join me?" He joined him on the rock. They were both covered in splashes of blood, but neither minded. Garel moved the hand from his head to take Dorian's hand and he kissed it gently. "Will you promise me something, vhenan?"

"What?"

"You have to promise first."

"I don't think how promises strictly work, amatus."

"Promise me you won't try to bring me back, when I die. I know you'd try so just...promise me you won't." Dorian narrowed his eyes. Why was he saying this?

"I promise." Garel smiled at him. He started to sit up. "Shall we get going?"

Garel grabbed Dorian's arm, his grip weaker than usual. "Not yet, just...a little longer." Dorian led back, letting Garel's hand run through his hair.

Dorian wasn't sure how long they stayed there, he wasn't sure when Garel's hand stopped moving.

All he knew is that when Bull and Blackwall woke him from the slumber he'd slipped into, Garel Lavellan was gone.


	11. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian/M!Lavellan
> 
> Garel is that kid at sleepovers that asks weird questions at 3am. Dorian wants to sleep.

It’s the first night he doesn’t have to sleep, doesn’t need to sleep. No meetings the next day, no journeys to make or visiting dignitaries to please. So he doesn’t sleep.

“Dorian.” He asked, turning on his side to look at his apparently sleeping lover.

“What.” Dorian replied, attempting to maintain the illusion he was getting any sleep.

“What does it feel like to have a moustache?” At this, Dorians eyes opened for a fraction of a second before he rolled away from Garel, taking the sheet with him.

“No, no, I am not indulging this.”

“Oh come on,” Garel shuffled closer to Dorian, running his hands up and down his side. “I’m _never_ going to know.”

“You’re right there.”

Garel frowned. He sighed in resignation and moved even closer, kissing Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian moaned and tilted his head back onto Garel’s shoulder. More moans echoed around the bedroom as Garel kissed further up Dorian’s neck until he reached his ear.

“Your ears are weird.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”


	12. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull/F!Adaar
> 
> Bull thinks about the Herald and a rule she has. Pre-relationship, but strongly hinting at some feelings.

He can’t touch her when it rains.

That’s what she says anyway, an ‘unfortunate side effect’ of her intense study of storm magic. When it rains, when there’s the beginnings of lighting in the air, she sparks without warning. She tells him not to touch her, that she won’t be responsible for the pain, the burns, potentially his death. She never says that last one, just says the first two then stares at her hands like she does whenever the topic of awry magic comes up. It hurts him, that it is partly his people that make her feel this way. That she is dangerous, to be collared and leashed, her lips sewn together and her mind practically taken away from her. It angers him that it is also the Chantry that made her like this, Templars and Circles making her the untrusted, the dangerous and unchecked, when she is the most controlled _person_ he has ever met. Almost every movement is something she’s rehearsed a dozen times in her head. She must represent all mages, all tal-vashoth, all qunari. Before he joined, according to Varric, she would hunch and slouch whenever she was around humans, had avoided using vitaar entirely. ‘A good influence’ he calls him. He wonders what she was like back with her mercenaries, when she didn’t have to worry about representing anything. Was she still insecure about her magic? Or was this a recent thing, with the introduction of the mark.

He rests a hand on her shoulder, feels her tense for a moment, and ignores the weirdly pleasant tingling sensation travelling down his arm.

“Okay, that’s badass.”


End file.
